a perfect angel
by what a lovely way to burn
Summary: — you are hereby invited to the wedding of maisie and amycus. please note that the author is not responsible for any head injuries you may acquire from banging your head against the wall. proceed at your own risk.


Everyone was busy. Everyone except Alecto, that is.

"You're not helping," huffed Maisie as she helped Amycus lug a sofa past.

Alecto looked up from nibbling her nails — a habit that Maisie had tried unsuccessfully many times to break — and asked, "Why should I? It's not _my_ wedding, is it?"

"Alecto." Her brother's tone brooked no arguments. "It may not be _your_ wedding, but it's Maisie's and mine, and we want everything to be perfect." He wheedled, "I'll make sure the cake is shiny."

That was all it took. Alecto immediately jumped up and grabbed a leg of the sofa.

•

"Alecto?" Maisie opened her soon-to-be sister-in-law's bedroom door to find her on the floor, playing with her beloved rice and conversing with her reflection in Beatrice, the metallic shiny silver wallpaper.

"Hm?" Alecto stood up, still fiddling with a grain of rice. She raised it to her mouth and nibbled on it.

"I hired Les again. She'll be over in just a few minutes, and she said she was bringing a list of rules for you."

"NO RULES!" screamed Alecto, stomping her feet. "NO LES!" She shoved Maisie back out the door and slammed it before bursting into tears and soon drenching her dress.

"Poor dear," commented Beatrice. "Have I mentioned how lovely your eyes are when glistening with unshed tears?"

Alecto wiped her eyes. "Really?"

Her reflection winked. "I only tell you what you yourself think."

Alecto hugged the wall.

•

"Maisie told me to give you etiquette lessons," Les said as she stood in the doorway of Alecto's shiny bedroom. "So," she stepped aside and let two women, one blonde, the other raven-haired, "I invited two of the best teachers. May I introduce —"

"Walburga Black," said the black-haired woman haughtily. She stared down her nose at Alecto — Alecto, whose fingernails were dirty and who had...

"Goodness, girl," sneered the blonde, "is that rice in your hair?" She stared down her nose at Alecto. "A...pleasure to make your acquaintance, I'm sure. Druella Rosier."

"Why is your hair up in that horrible style?" Walburga clucked and pulled the pins out of Alecto's hair, making the mousy brown hair fall to her waist in completely straight sheets. Alecto gasped; she hadn't let her hair down in years for any reason other than to wash it.

Druella twisted her lips and tilted her head at Alecto. "Bangs would improve her face shape."

Walburga hummed. "Indeed." She raised her wand and slashed it through the air. Brown hair fluttered to the ground and Alecto's eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"My hair!" She clutched her forehead, where, instead of long, straight, dull hair, there were smooth, shorn... "Waves? I have _waves_?"

Walburga jerked her head down in what passed for a nod. "Shorter hair is better." She circled Alecto. Before the woman could say a word, there was another swish and her head felt a lot lighter than it had in years. She raised her hand and touched the hair that now went to just past her shoulders.

"Good." Druella stretched her lips to the side in a semblance of a smile. "Onward. We have much to do, and very little time to do it in."

•

"It's time!" Les popped her head around the door of the changing room. Alecto wore a light pink dress that just brushed her knees, low silver heels, and her hair was held back with a black velvet headband. In her hand, she clutched a wicker basket filled with pink rose petals. "Ready? You're going first."

Druella and Walburga drifted over from the sofa upon which they had been seated. "Remember," said the haughty blonde, "chin up, back straight, eyes forward. Do not slouch."

"No rice-throwing," added Les. "No crying, either, because this is a very special day for your brother and Maisie. Don't ruin it."

Walburga cast an appraising glance over Alecto before nodding sharply. "Presentable. Now, go!"

Alecto went.

•

The ceremony was beautiful.

Amycus and Maisie had written their own vows, and the passion with which they recited them brought many members of the audience to tears. Les had elected to sit beside Alecto, who was bawling, and she was very thankful that she'd had the foresight to carry a stack of clean, pressed handkerchiefs. She handed them to Alecto one after another, wringing them out as she received them back, drenched with Alecto's tears.

The reception was a nightmare.

Alecto got hot, and instead of asking someone — anyone — to cast a Cooling charm on her, she decided to start taking clothes off. Les, Walburga, and Druella caught her running around in just a white, cotton slip, and dragged her away to redress her and give her a stern talking-to.

After rejoining the celebration, Alecto somehow managed to talk a server into letting her have some Firewhiskey, and drank six shots of the strong liquor before stumbling over to where Les was eating and chatting with Dragon, Maisie's garlic-breathing friend, and throwing up all over Les's black cloak. Poor Les jumped up, sputtering incoherently about baby bottles, and marched through the crowd — which willingly parted when they smelled Les coming — to Maisie, who Les announced had to pay for the dry-cleaning bill of her cloak.

"It was my very favourite," she complained before whisking said cloak off, stuffing it into Maisie's hands, and taking flight, black draperies fluttering behind.

Amycus leaned over Maisie's shoulder and licked the cloak. "Mmm, Firewhiskey," he said appreciatively.

Maisie gave her husband a _look._ "Come over here," she practically purred.

Seconds later, a scarred Alecto streaked through the guests, screaming about her eyes.

The couple broke apart, and Amycus pet his new wife's hair with his caterpillar tongue. "Look at her," Maisie said fondly, watching Alecto run about waving her arms. "A perfect angel."

"One day," Amycus told her, "maybe we can have angels of our own."

"I'd love that." Maisie pulled him in for another kiss.

•

Above, an annoyed Dementor crossed her arms with a huff. "As if the world needs more Alectos," she complained.

* * *

 _ **author's notes:** i blame les completely for this_.


End file.
